Bad Moon Rising
by CattyRose
Summary: AU. "Who do you think you are - the big bad wolf come to gobble up innocent girls on their way to their great-aunt's office?" Remus laughed humorlessly. "You have no idea, Little Red," he growled, his normally honey eyes shaded amber. "No idea at all."
1. The Animal Inside

**_Hey guys, I'm finally back with a new story! I know, I know...shocker. Now you guys know what I was writing when you all were crying "Update Faithless, update Faithless!" Which makes me wonder if you even read these things, because I specifically wrote that I wanted you guys to tell me what drabbles you wanted to see turned into chapters. And not one of you said a thing, so until you do...no new chapters for you. To those of you who braved that rant and don't even know what I'm talking about...terribly sorry._ _I hope you enjoy this chapter and will stick around for every one that will follow after. This chapter is dedicated to all of you reading this, but most especially to my beta, CrystalSaffron and to my best friend, SinPiedad. Love you guys so much for all you've done to make Bad Moon Rising a reality. Thanks, guys._**

**Bad Moon Rising**

By: CattyRose

_**  
Chapter One - The Animal Inside**_

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**September 13, 1996 – 10:48 AM**

"I hate this." Ginevra Weasley muttered, careful not to break the never ending silence that seemed to hold Gryffindor Tower within it's endless grip. "It's like we're just giving up, Colin. And that scares me."

The young photographer sighed, blue eyes sweeping the Common Room for any sign of the life it once held. "I know, Gin. I know."

He spoke a little louder, purposefully drawing the eyes of the hopeless students who sat silent and still, unwilling to break the lifeless grip of grief that seemed to be pervading the castle. "We're letting the Dark Lord win by sitting here, acting as though we're already dead. We have all lost friends, we will lose friends again, because this is **War**." Collin ground out. "That doesn't mean we should stop living our lives. To do so is to dishonor those who have fallen, fighting so that we might live. What kind of Gryffindor allows themselves to cower in fear?" He questioned, his voice rich with disgust.

"Here, here!" The redhead cried, inclining her head proudly. "We are Gryffindors, and it's about time we start acting like them. Tonight, we celebrate life! We celebrate for Dean, Romilda, and my brother. Tonight, we're going to laugh, and love, and **live again**. Who's with us?"

"Yeh bet your arse **I** am, lass." A strong Irish baritone rung through the room, causing several people to look at the blond seventh year oddly. "Dean would hate to see us like this, yeah? Can yeh all see them sitting around like a buncha zombies?" Seamus queried with a solemn expression that seemed oddly out of place on the usually jovial Irishman's face. "Harry, wherever he is now, would want us to be strong for the rest o' the school. So aye, I'm with yeh."

"They're right." Neville said, nodding empathetically. "We won't let this be a victory for Vol-Voldemort. We can't. The school needs us."

"We won't forget them," Lavender affirmed in a rare moment of seriousness. "They fought hard and lived life to the last. And that's what we're going to do."

"For Dean, Romilda, and Ron," cried several voices at once.

"**Long live Gryffindor**!" The crowd roared in answer, fires sparking in once dull eyes, even as others clapped their hands or stomped their feet, the wild cheering and enthusiastic whistles showing the crowd's approval. They would be strong, and they would survive this war to live their lives to the fullest. For those who had already fallen.

Giving her best friend's hand a squeeze, the youngest Weasley shared a triumphant smile with Colin. "Speaking of which, I think I'm going to talk to McGonagall this week. I...I have some things to atone for. Maybe he'll forgive me if I try to preserve his memory."

"**Ginevra**..." He began, shifting in his seat. The rare use of her full name caught her attention, stopping her words before she could even speak. "Your brother knew you loved him, even if you didn't say it, you told him every day simply by being his sister. I....I can't imagine losing Denis, but even if I never got to say goodbye, I'd still know." He mumured, trying in vain to comfort the girl before him.

"But I...I was such an annoying little bint to him that morning. I called him a git for hogging the hot water, and joked about him eating like a pig and I never even got to say sorry for teasing him before he was gone. Hermione and her parents are in America until the war's over. Harry is in forced hiding, doing research on horcruxes. It seems unreal, y'know?" She carded shaking hands through her hair, trying to gather her wits enough to keep speaking.

"It feels like I was just joking around with Ron and Harry this morning, and I've suddenly lost two of my brothers and a girl I considered my sister in one fell swoop. And the brothers I do still have are all risking their necks. What am I doing for the cause? I'm safe and sound sitting here, crying like a little baby over my brother." The redhead ranted, her entire form trembling from the onslaught of emotions.

Leaning forward, Colin opened his mouth to speak before shutting it abruptly. Shrugging slightly, he slid his hand under her chin and forced teary chocolate eyes up to meet tired blue. "It's war." The sixth year said simply, as this explained everything. And perhaps it did.

**September 1, 1996 – 8:19 AM**

"C'mon, Ron." Ginny Weasley shouted, slamming her fist against the bathroom door. "You're not the only one that is leaving for King's Cross today, you prat! Hurry up already!" Her brother was taking forever in the bathroom, and she desperately needed a shower and something to eat in the morning before could even consider herself anything resembling awake. Tapping her foot in irritation and cursing her brother under her breath, she nearly jumped a foot in the air when a warm chuckle came from somewhere behind her. Crossing her arms and turning to playfully scowl at the dark haired boy who had startled her, she shook her head. "Think it's funny, eh, Potter? He's taking forever, the git. And you lot talk about girls taking forever in the loo."

Harry Potter snickered and leaned causally against the wall, emerald eyes sparkling with good humor behind his trademark glasses. Shifting the towel in his hand to his shoulder as he waited for the bathroom, he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Well, Gin," He said quietly, careful not to alert his best friend, who had finally left the shower, as to what he was saying. " You see, it's like this...the reason Ron takes so long in the loo is because he has to make sure he's pretty enough to fight with Hermoine..."

Stuffing a fist in her mouth to keep from laughing hysterically, she shot a dark look towards the amused brunette and pounded on the door again. "Let's go, ickle Ronnikins, or you'l miss breakfast. Harry and I would like to shower now so we actually stand a chance of getting downstairs before you eat it all!" This comment seemed to draw another chuckle from the boy behind her.

"Aw, Gin, I didn't know you wanted to sneak a peek at my arse. You don't need excuses like showering together to save time to get a look. I'd be quite happy to help..."

"Harry!" She cried, sounding somewhere between amused and scandalized. "How dare you suggest I'd be so devious as to have ulterior motives when it pertains to food? I love breakfast more, no matter how fine the arse. Weasleys don't joke about food." The redhead said with mock solemnity, trying and failing to keep from laughing.

"Is food truly so important you'd neglect a chance to see my hot bod? I'm utterly insulted, Gin-Gin." He joked, a genuine smile tickling his lips.

"You and everybody else, Potter." The petite girl retorted sarcastically. "I aim to please."

"You know," said another voice conversationally, "If you two would stop flirting for a minute you'd realize I've already been to our room and gotten dressed while the bathroom sat empty."

Green eyes met brown for a few seconds, communicating silently before both sets of eyes turned towards the other redhead. "Shut up, Ron!" They said in eerie unison, before Ginny slipped away into the bathroom to get washed up.

Ron shrugged at the other boy as his sister darted around him and rushed into the bathroom. "My sister is mental, I swear. Don't know why you hang out with her. Anyway, I'm going to go finish tossing things into my trunk and then grab some breakfast. I can't wait to get back to school. We're the kings of the world this year! Anyway, see you when you're showered, yeah?" Giving his best mate's shoulder a light nudge, he headed back towards the room he shared with Harry, still rubbing a towel through damp ginger hair.

Little did he know, he'd be felled before he ever got to board the Hogwarts Express for his final journey to the school.

**September 14, 1996 – 3:34 AM**

The usually cheery fire that seemed to burn perpetually in Gryffindor Tower's fireplace had long since dimmed to the faintest of embers, casting odd shadows about the room. It was a strange sort of testament to the late hour, that the sole witness and companion of the Gryffindor's celebration was slowly dying, barely presenting warmth to the bodies spread out across the common room. Few had made it to their beds, choosing instead to stay close to their friends, as if making sure that those who remained would still be there in the morning. Others had simply fallen asleep where they were, making the scene far more comical than anything had a right to be during war time.

"Nah, s'impos...impossible. I-" Ginny slurred, absently tossing her card to Seamus, who was acting as a dealer. "Fold. S'no way I can...can...can win this thing. 'M out for the nigh'. I'll...jus' watch." She declared, taking a liberal swig from a nearby bottle of firewhiskey.

"Y'know, I'm kinda hungry..." Neville mused aloud. "I say we...raise...rage...raid! Yeah, s'it. I say we raid the kitchens after this hand."

To the sole few remaining awake and conscious enough to play poker, this sounded like a smashing idea. Until Lavender, in an odd moment of sobriety, pointed out the hour. "Bugger." Seamus swore and rose unsteadily to his feet. "I say we do it anyway! Right, guys? Nev? Gin? Lav? Guys?" The Irishman called, trying to get a response from his now sleeping friends. "Bugger," he repeated again, dropping into his armchair and closing his eyes. Maybe they had the right idea, after all.

"No, Ron..." the red-headed girl whimpered some time later, tossing and turning violently on the loveseat in the throes of a nightmare as the firewhiskey in her system caused her to relive her worst memories.

**September 1, 1996 – 10:33 AM**

"Now dears, you be good. I don't want to hear you've gotten yourselves into any trouble, you hear me?" Mrs. Weasley said, hugging each of her children fiercely in turn.

"Yes, Mum." The two Weasleys and Harry chorused in unison.

"Boys, I want you to look after your sister. Ginevra, the same goes for you. In dark times like this, we need to take care of each other. Be careful, kids. And remember, your mother and I love you very much." With lingering hugs given to each child, Arthur turned to leave. Catching sight of the clock nearby, Arthur Weasley's eyes widened. "I had to go back to work fifteen minutes ago. I'll see you all at Christmas. Behave!" The Weasley patriarch exclaimed, hurrying over to the apparition point with a quick nod to Kingsley and his fellow aurors. A backwards wave to his family and the order members that stood guard around them, Arthur was gone. Little did anyone know that his hasty goodbye would be the last time he would ever hug his youngest son.

"You kids should probably be getting on the train before all the good compartments are taken." A rather new member of the Order said, intent on getting his charges to safety.

"He's right." Harry murmured, turning to hug the woman he considered his mother one last time.

"We should go, Mum." Ron agreed quietly.

"We'll write, Mum. Promise. Please don't worry about us." Ginny pleaded, kissing her mother's cheek.

"Of course I'll worry, dears. It's what being -" Molly Weasley trailed off, words having fled at the sound of several pops signaling apparition and a scream from further down the platform. "Quickly dears, on the train. Go, go, go..." The woman cried, pushing her children towards the doors of the steam engine frantically.

Harry's face was ashen as he was pushed towards the train. "No," he said forcefully, a steely glint entering his emerald eyes.

"Don't be a fool!" The order member from before cried. "Get on the train!"

Ron shook his head quietly, and resolutely stood by his friend's side. Catching his sister's movement out of the corner of his eye, the redhead again shook his head. "Not this time. Sorry Gin. _Colloportus_!" He cried, waving his wand. Instantaneously, the train doors sealed shut, trapping the girl behind them.

"No!" She shrieked, betrayal evident in her eyes. Damnit, did they really expect her to stay put while they fought for their lives? Beating her small fists against the door, she could only watch helplessly through the compartment door as the battle raged. Angry tears blurring her vision, she barely managed to catch sight of a green light streaking towards her brother. Screaming, she beat her fists harder, watching in slow motion as her brother crumpled to the ground, blue eyes lifeless. Nonononononono...a mantra of denial as her body gave out. Sliding down the door in stunned disbelief, the redhead hugged her knees to her chest and rocked as angry tears turned into great, gasping sobs filled with grief.

Some time later, perhaps hours, minutes, seconds, an eternity having passed, the train began to move. Ginny was later joined by Collin, Luna, and Neville, but the girl refused to speak, crying all the while. She wouldn't receive word that her Mum and Harry were alright for a week.

**September 18, 1996 – 4:25 PM**

"Please, Professor. I know it seems like a lot to ask, but..." The redhead sniffled quietly, chocolate eyes darting around the room in a futile attempt to hide the beginning of tears from her stern head of house. How many times had she cried in the weeks following her brother's death? She had lost count. "He was so excited when he completed his transformation for the first time. He couldn't believe he was a lion, but that was my brother. R-R-Ron was nothing if not a Gryffindor..." Ginny Weasley swallowed hard, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks as she finally lost the valiant battle against crying.

Seemingly deflating at the mention of her lost lion cub, the usually stoic Transfiguration teacher rose from her seat and slipped a comforting arm around the petite redhead's shoulders, giving the younger woman a small squeeze. Minerva McGonagall was a stern woman, but she was not without a heart. Seeing the girl she had once considered her own in such a state nearly broke her heart as much as the loss of the youngest Weasley son. Inhaling slowly, she made a desperate attempt to keep the guilt at bay. She had failed to keep her beloved students safe, and thanks to her failure, Gryffindor tower was now without three of its own. Never again would she scold Dean Thomas for fooling around with Mr. Finnigan in class. Ronald Weasley would never lose another point from Gryffindor for fighting with Mr. Malfoy, and young Romilda Vane would never be able to spread the latest gossip in the tower amongst her classmates. Curtailing that train of thought before it could continue, and silently thanking the Gods she had not lost more, the weary Deputy Headmistress waited for the once fiery girl to collect herself enough to finish pleading her case. Losing her big brother, her former boyfriend, and her dormmate in such rapid succession had dimmed much of the innate fire the youngest Weasley possessed, so it was with some surprise that the aging witch regarded her young charge as she began to speak again.

"I want to remember him like that. I need to remember him like that, Professor. This is the way I can honor him. This is the way I can keep the memory of my brother, and all he was, alive. Please help me do this, Professor. **Please**." The girl pleaded, the first real signs of passion returning since the first fall of an older brother to the war. Almost as if her plea had taken all the strength she had left, the young woman slid down in her seat, her entire form seemingly becoming listless. Turning dull eyes on her teacher, the drained redhead waited for her elder to speak.

"You do understand that this will not be easy, Miss Weasley? It is a long and difficult process that one must go through to become an animagius. I've little doubt that you are quite capable of doing anything you set your mind to, but I do worry about your current state of mind. The training is rigorous and frustrating, and quite frankly, I am worried that your grief will complicate the process." The older woman said quietly, raising a hand to halt the protest she was certain was coming. "However, I believe that you are determined enough to take matters into your own hands should I refuse, correct?" Smiling at the jerky nod she received in reply, she continued to speak. "Very well, Miss Weasley. Stay after class tomorrow and we will get a schedule sorted out. However, you must promise me that you will not try anything I might teach you in these lessons on your own unless instructed. With your state of mind, you will need supervision from someone who knows the process well, lest something go wrong. Will you give me your word, Miss Weasley?"

Sitting up straighter in her chair with each word spoken, the once hopeless girl felt a genuine smile light up her too pale features for the first time since her brother's death. Withdrawing her wand from the inside of her robes, she held it out and made her oath. "_I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, do solemnly swear on my magic and my honor as a witch to take my animagus training no further than instructed, and until mastered, never try to transform without the supervision of Professor McGonagall_." Golden light surrounding her as the vow took, she murmured "_So mote it be_," only to be echoed by the smiling Professor. Thanking the older woman profusely, she made her excuses and left, with a promise to stay after class the next day, leaving a bemused Minerva McGonagall in her wake.

Shaking her head fondly, the animagus turned her attention to the rolls of parchment waiting to be graded, even as her thoughts wandered back to the young lady who had just left her office. Idly correcting papers, she mused that teaching Ginny Weasley to become an animagus was the least she could do for the poor girl. Not only would she be alleviating some of the girl's overwhelming grief, she would also be giving the girl a goal, something she could focus and work towards. Indeed, animagus training was just the thing to keep her from feeling useless even as she worried over her family and friends while they risked their lives to complete missions for the Order.

'Besides,' the Transfiguration professor thought, quill dropping from her hand as she was distracted, 'It will come in handy sooner rather than later, if I remember correctly. I really must check in on Fillius and his progress at some point. I do believe it's almost time.' Smiling secretly to herself, she picked up the abandoned quill and began to grade once more, lost in memories of redheads with beautiful laughs and wickedly smiling Marauders.


	2. I Think I'm Paranoid

_**Once again, dedicated to CrystalSaffron, my awesome beta...you've done a great job, girl! Also to SinPiedad, who makes me feel better when I'm having one of my dee dee dee moments, but mostly just because she's her. Love you, Nami. Shout outs to all american cowgirl and the lovely Nival Vixen herself. Thanks for the reviews, guys! Hope you all enjoy it. Oh, I think I might have forgotten to say this...Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. Not even in my dreams...although young Tom Riddle and Sirius Black feature a great deal. Anyway, get reading!**_

**Bad Moon Rising**

By: CattyRose

_**Chapter Two – I Think I'm Paranoid  
**_

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**  
September 25, 1996 – 1:56PM**

"Well, Filius?" The Transfiguration teacher queried warily, slipping into Filius' private workroom. With a cursory glance around to make sure they were alone, she shut the door behind her and put up the required privacy wards. "How goes the project, old friend?"

The miniscule Charms professor shot his Arithmancy calculations a dark glare and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "As well as can be expected, Min. Time magic is very complex, and extremely dangerous. Each calculation must be exact down to the last parameter, or there is a very real risk that the user will get lost in the time stream." Filius could feel a lump forming in his throat at the very thought of something happening to one of his students. No matter what Minerva might say, telling himself it had to be done offered little comfort. Still, the small man forced himself to ignore his discomfort and continue. "There's a reason the Ministry regulates time turners so heavily, and they only go back a few hours. The slightest miscalculation...Min, what if I make a mistake?" He murmured, looking utterly distraught.

"Oh, Filius," she breathed, giving her colleague a reassuring smile. "You're not going to make any errors. You and I both remember her posing as my great niece, and her cover as a previously home-schooled sixth year who transferred to Hogwarts due to family issues."

"But what if -" he began to interrupt.

"But nothing, Filius. She's not going to do anything that would cause the mission to fail, least of all risk such a catastrophic endeavor as to change the time line. When the time comes, she will know just how important this mission is to the the war effort. She will do nothing to jeopardize that, or her family," Minerva, ever the world-weary instructor, said with conviction.

"I know that," the diminutive man replied. "I just feel awful about asking this of her. She's such a bright girl, and after the loss of her brother...she needs stability. As it is, the poor girl is worried to death for her family and friends. She should be able to stay near them, where she can reassure herself that they're safe. Familiar surroundings, no matter how similar, are foreign without familiar people." He said empathetically, pounding his fist on the work desk in front of him.

"There is no one else, I'm afraid." She declared, after a minute of thought. "No matter how much you don't want to lose your most gifted student, Filius, I'm afraid it must be her. We both know it must come to pass, for we both remember it. There is no one I trust more, no one better suited for this mission. If it makes you feel better," she confided, "I will miss her as well."

"Am I that obvious, Minnie?" At the woman's answering laugh, he simply shook his head. "I will miss her terribly, though."

Heading towards the door, Minerva turned, oddly solemn. "As will I," she murmured, before slipping out of the workroom as if she had never been there in the first place.

"Oh, dear girl...please forgive us." The exhausted man uttered into the silent room, slumping forward in defeat onto the workbench before him.

**  
October 4, 1996 – 9:12 PM**

"Professor," the youngest Weasley croaked, "May I get some water, please?"

Smiling kindly, the older woman poured her a glass from a nearby pitcher. "Of course. Now, it's nothing to be ashamed of if you didn't find your form just yet. It can take more than one spiritual trance to find your inner animal. I myself took several," she said conversationally as the young girl drank deeply.

"Professor," the redhead mumbled, timidly interrupted what was rapidly becoming a long-winded speech.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?" The elder queried, an inquisitive brow rising at the interjection.

"It seems," the girl divulged, "That I am a wolf."

"Oh! Well done, Miss Weasley." The Scottish woman complimented, clapping her hands. "It took me far longer to find my form. Remarkable work from a remarkable girl. But I would expect no less. Now, tomorrow night we will begin working on visualization exercises."

"But Professor-" The sixth year began.

"But nothing, Miss Weasley. Although it may not have felt like it, you have been in that trance for hours. It is nearing curfew, as it were. So, that will be all for tonight, Ms. Weasley. Good evening."

"Yes, ma'am." She quietly replied. "Goodnight Professor."

Waiting until her lioness was long gone, Minerva McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. From what she recalled about the younger woman's visit to the past, Ginevra had claimed to take two and a half months to master the transformation after she had found her form, and had only been a full fledged animagus for less than a week before she had been sent back to retrieve Gryffindor's Dagger.

"It seems I must begin gathering supplies if she is to be prepared on time. Here's hoping Filius has those calculations done soon..." She muttered, pouring herself a rather large glass of sherry to drink before she retired for the night.

**  
October 7, 1996 – 2:21 PM**

"Right, I want you all to have read chapters five through seven in your text by Friday's class." The werewolf held up a hand to silence the protests. "Come, now. I'm not asking you for an essay on the material," he chided, running a faintly trembling hand through sandy blond hair. "Keep it up, however," he snapped, "And the class will find themselves taking a quiz on the reading material. Am I understood?"

Frowning, Ginny Weasley added her voice to those hurriedly chorusing their agreement, brows furrowed as she contemplated the uncharacteristic display of temper. It was not at all like the mild-mannered man she knew to snap so suddenly, least of all over something as trivial as a few grumbled complaints about homework. 'Perhaps,' she thought, concern bubbling through her at the idea, 'Perhaps Professor Lupin isn't feeling well? The full moon's over two weeks away, so that can't be it. But his hand was shaking... Maybe I should stay after class and talk to him?'

Absently gathering her things, she carelessly dumped them into her bag and waved Colin off as the bell rang, mouthing the words "See you later." The excitable photographer nodded once and headed out the door, not even pausing to question his best friend. Despite what many a Slytherin would say, Colin Creevey was not stupid. He knew there were certain things she couldn't tell him, and he would never betray her enough to ask.

Shouldering her bag as Colin's steps grew further and further away, the girl made a beeline for her now shaking teacher. "Professor Lupin," she queried, voice rich with concern. "Professor, are you alright? Professor?" The man before her made no attempt to respond, eyes glazed over as he trembled violently in his chair. Hesitantly reaching out, the girl laid a tentative hand on his arm, shaking the appendage lightly. "Professor," she repeated again, as his own hand laced through hers, bringing her wrist to his mouth and sniffing. "Remus!" She called desperately, panic racing through her veins as he pressed a kiss to her captive wrist, "Remus, snap out of it! You're scaring me..." She murmured, shaking like a leaf.

Amber eyes darting to her terrified form with something akin to recognition, the werewolf relaxed his grip enough to let the scared redhead pry her wrist loose, only to growl at the loss. "Professor," she murmured, a hysterical note entering her voice. "Professor," she repeated again, only to have the older man shake his head, as though trying to clear it. "Remus, snap out of it." She said, unconsciously echoing her earlier words.

Warm honey eyes overtaking amber, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher brought his gaze up to meet his shaken student's, a sharp clarity entering his eyes. "Miss Weasley, I think it would be best for both of us if you were to leave now." His words finally breaking the spell his gaze had her under, the petite girl gave a jerky nod and hitched her bag higher up her shoulder.

"Yes, Professor. Good afternoon, sir. " The girl managed to get out before she turned tail and fled, her entire form shaking again as the odd encounter played itself over and over in her mind's eye.

"Damnit!" He roared when the girl was out of sight, "Damnit all to hell!" Picking up the nearest object he could reach, he stood abruptly and flung it violently at the wall. Mildly satiated by the sound of the glass paperweight smashing, he stepped out from behind his desk and began to pace. He knew there was something he was forgetting, something important.

"Damn right you forgot something important," Moony thought, wanting to howl with frustration as he fought desperately to free himself of the cage his human half forced him into. "Something like, oh, I don't know," he growled out, "**OUR MATE**?" The wolf shook his head in defeat and curled up into a miserable ball.

What was the use? It's not like his idiotic human would listen to him even if he got free long enough to explain what was going on. Knowing his human, he'd bury his head in the sand and deny, deny, deny. But damnit, she was theirs, and all he wanted was for her to come back.

**  
October 7, 1996 – 6:12 PM**

"Ginny, we're going to be late for dinner. C'mon," Colin pleaded, trying to rouse the shaken girl from her spot near the lake. Her skin was positively chilled, and her uncharacteristic silence was beginning to unnerve him.

"I think," Luna commented mildly as she gathered up her books, "that Ginny has no intention of coming with us. She hasn't moved since classes ended. Perhaps she's suffering from a wrackspurt infestation. They quite like red hair, you know."

"Luna," Colin snapped, "Be serious for a mo', can't you? She's not said a thing since she stayed after to have a word with Professor Lupin, just followed us out here and sat down, hasn't budged a centi since, not even to respond to us or do her homework. Something's wrong, can't you see it?"

Luna fixed Colin with a dreamy look, her voice far away as she spoke. "Or perhaps something's finally been righted. It won't be long now. Can't you hear the wolves howl?"

Colin blinked stupidly for several moments before shaking his head, feeling utterly baffled. He loved Luna, really he did, but sometimes it was trying to be her friend. Between her steadfast belief in creatures that were so odd even the magical world disbelieved and her cryptic comments, the Ravenclaw really could be too much. "Right." Colin said agreeably, unsure as to just what he was agreeing to. "Let's just get some dinner, yeah?" Casting one last worried look sideways at the pale, haunted redhead, he offered his arm to the Ravenclaw. "So, dinner?" Colin said hopefully as the blond took his arm.

"Oh, yes. I'm rather hungry. I think I've forgotten to eat again..." Luna said, hitching her bag up higher on her shoulder.

"Forgotten to...?" Colin muttered skeptically, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Really, he told himself, he didn't want to know. With Luna, it was often the safest route to take.

Ginny knew she should feel guilty for ignoring her friends the better part of the afternoon, but all she could feel was relief as she finally heard them get up and head towards dinner. Honestly, she hadn't been in the mood for company since her encounter with Professor Lupin.

Well, her rebellious mind admitted, that wasn't strictly true. Fingers stiff with cold rising reluctantly from their place in her lap, she gently touched her wrist. An unfamiliar electricity sparked through her blood as her fingers ghosted over the spot his lips had touched. Shifting uncomfortably, she withdraws her cold fingers from skin that feels oddly warm and far too sensitive to the touch. 'Maybe Professor Lupin is _sick_,' she thinks. It might be worth stopping by the Hospital Wing, just in case. The last thing she can afford is to miss class this early in the school year.

Amber eyes flash across her mind's eye and her fingers curl into fists, her nails leaving little welts in her palms. Her mouth is suddenly too dry, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips without conscious thought. She's not sure why, but instead of those eyes being accompanied by the face of the worn-out Defense professor she's so used to, there's instead an image in her head of a younger man, with a dark, easy grace, and a predatory smirk. And no matter how she tries, she can't seem to shake it.

Worse still is the feeling that accompanies the surfacing image, the blazing heat and utter rightness that it leaves in its wake, even though she's never met this boy in her life. The words echoes of futures past rise unbidden from somewhere inside, and she shivers as though someone's walked over her grave. Again, the image surfaces, and this time her breath catches in her throat as some dark, distant part of her cries "Mine."

Clambering to her feet, she sways unsteadily as feeling rushes back into her legs in the form of pins and needles. 'I can't stay here anymore,' she thinks, 'it's not safe.' Shouldering her bag, she allows glazed chocolate eyes to dart wildly around her surroundings in search of the eyes that she can feel watching her. When she finds nothing out of the ordinary, she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, but settles for heading to the castle in a brisk walk, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She can still feel someone's eyes on her, and it makes her tighten her grip on her bag and quicken her step further. An insidious voice in the back of her mind tells her that if she were to turn around and look, she would see amber eyes, but she dismisses the thought with a slightly hysterical laugh.

She spends the rest of the night in the safe-haven of Gryffindor Tower joking with her friends, her unease momentarily quelled by the security of friendly faces and familiar surroundings. It's only later, as sleep claims her, that she dreams of wolves howling in the darkness and the thrill of the chase. The dream is as much a threat as it is a promise, and Ginevra awakens in the dead of night feeling hunted. Over the pounding sound of her heart hammering in her ears, she can just about make out the sound of a wolf howling triumphantly somewhere in the distance. The sound chills her to the bone.


	3. Every Breath You Take

**_I know, I know...it's been over a year. Don't hate me, I just lost my muse for a while. And my notes got thrown into the pool around the same time I lose contact with my beta. But I'm back, and if Janele has anything to say about it, I'll be updating way more frequently. All mistakes are my own, seeing as how I no longer have a beta, and I take full responsibility for them. Chapter four is being written as we speak and I'm trying to plan out chapter five...so expect to be hearing from me more often. Oh, and Janele, this chapter is dedicated to you- you wanted more of our dear sexy Remus. Does this work for you? Because I gotta tell you, this is was a blast to write for me and I look forward to doing more scenes like this._  
**

**Bad Moon Rising**

By: CattyRose

_**Chapter Three – Every Breath You Take**_

* * *

**October 10, 1996 – 5:43 AM**

Shifting restlessly against the sheets, Remus muttered something intelligible and reached across the bed, searching for the elusive warmth he instinctively knew belonged there. Even in sleep, the werewolf's mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown when he failed to find the warmth he was seeking.

Huffing out a sigh, he twisted amongst the covers, the furrow in his brow becoming more pronounced as the minute hand of the clock crept slowly forward.

**January 13, 1978 **

_Chocolate eyes darted up and down the hall, seeking help that would never come, or perhaps escape. "What do you want from me?" She questioned, her voice surprisingly level as she trembled against him._

"_I don't want anything **from** you," he retorted sharply, amber eyes darkening as he leaned his head closer to sniff at her neck. "I want **you**,"the werewolf confessed, nipping sharply at her pulse. The redhead pinned between the wall and his body gasped, inhaling sharply, and he couldn't help the rumbling chuckle that escaped, hanging in the air between them._

_The sound shivered down her spine, feral and unashamed, and she tried to swallow the answering moan that built up in her throat. Lips thankfully parted soundlessly, and she fought the urge to squirm against his hold."Let me go, Remus," she begged, sounding positively shaken._

"_Never," he swore, pulling back slightly to survey his work. Chocolate eyes were nearly black with desire, and as her chest heaved with the effort to catch her breath, he found himself following her flush from her cheeks, and down her neck, eyes lingering on the livid purple contrasting sharply against the pale pink skin, to where it finally disappeared under her shirt. Looking quite pleased with himself, he pushed off the wall with his shoulder and smirked. "Run," he said simply._

_Ginevra stood frozen in place, missing his warmth and far too stunned to move. "Run," the blond repeated, "But know I'll always give chase." Snapping into action at the dark promise in his voice, she didn't hesitate to do as he asked, fleeing down the empty corridor as though the hounds of hell were chasing her. _

Honey eyes snapping open, Remus John Lupin jolted into wakefulness with a gasp, feeling as though he had been hit with a jolt of lightning. "What," he croaked, voice oddly hoarse, "the bloody hell was that?"

Deep in the bowels of the professor's mind, Moony raised his head and let loose a bark of laughter. "**Ours**," the wolf thought snidely, knowing his human would never hear. "**That** was _**ours**_. She _**is**_ ours and will be again. **Soon**."

**October 11, 1996 – 7:38 PM**

"All right, Miss Weasley. Let's hear it," the usually stern Transfiguration Mistress ordered, the soft smile on her face at odds with her brisk tone.

The redhead's eyes widened a fraction, but she refused to let herself seem guilty. All she had done was a bit of research out of curiosity. She hadn't tried to rush the transformation or do anything against the rules. "Hear what, Professor," she questioned softly, her heart in her throat. This meant so much to her, and the idea she had blown it simply because she had wanted to know more absolutely terrified her.

"Do you take me for a fool, Miss Weasley," the Scottish witch queried, her voice nearly glacial. "I have been teaching Transfiguration for longer then you have been alive. I know how students' minds work." Face gentling, she continued. "I, myself, did much the same as you did, my dear. Once I found my form, I went and took out every book I could find on animals and animal symbolism. Now, tell me what you've learned."

Ginevra flinched at the accusation in her head of house's tone, keeping her gaze firmly glued to the hands that were twisting and turning in her lap nervously. "Wolves are...social predators. They live in packs and hunt together. Amongst those packs are several nuclear families, a breeding pair and their offspring," she mumbled, finally looking up, as though asking for permission to continue, which was was granted by a small nod.

"The hierarchy in a wolf pack neutralizes aggression, reduces conflict and promotes social order, and there's two hierarchies in any pack; one for females and one for males. The top of the hierarchy seldom changes, it's mostly within the lower ranks that changes occur frequently. Submissive behavior plays a big role in maintaining peace within the pack. Pups are considered to be low ranking in the hierarchy, but they have a lot of privileges and social freedom, because well, they're just kids and they don't know any better." Again the girl snuck a glance at her professor, trying to gauge whether she should keep going or not.

"Continue, Miss Weasley," the tartan clad woman finally interjected, sensing her student's confusion.

"They are designed for running, catching, and killing large animals although they're opportunistic and will usually try to catch the easiest and most vulnerable animal. Although they can easily kill healthy animals, they instinctively seek out sickly, weak, crippled, or vulnerable animals, like the young and the old. Generally speaking, wolves are docile animals with a strong aversion to fighting. To catch enough food, wolves have to hunt often and try a bunch of animals before they find one that they can catch and kill, which is why they have a low success rate when it comes to hunting."

Ginny stopped and took a breath, still fidgeting slightly. "I have loads more, Professor, but I'm not sure what else you want to hear."

The elderly witch smiled, pleased that her cub was taking this so seriously. "I would like to hear it all, had we the time, Miss Weasley. Alas, I'm afraid it's nearly curfew. You had best be getting back to the tower."

The young Gryffindor's eyes widened comically. Had she really been speaking for that long? It hadn't felt like very long at all. Bringing her wrist up to eye level, she peered at her watch and let out a small yelp of surprise. "Oh bugger, I've only got five minutes! Thank you for the lesson Professor," she cried, shooting out of her seat and darting towards the door, only stopping in the doorway long enough to mumble "Sorry about the language, Professor," and wave goodbye before she vanished from view in a sprint.

Minevra McGonagall was not the type to laugh often or easily, not since the last war. As the memories of other such farewells rose to the forefront of her mind's eye, however, her office was filled with the rare sound of her laughter.

**October 17, 1996 – 4:51 PM**

Ginevra Molly Weasley was relatively sure she was going insane. There was simply no other explanation for it. Wherever she went, whatever she did, she could feel that heavy gaze trained on her. She felt like a rabbit caught in a wolves' den, and it made her entirely too edgy for her own good. Her friends were getting worried, she knew, but there was little she could do to reassure herself, let alone them. Perhaps she was simply being paranoid, but it seemed as though she was always being watched, even when she was certain she was well and truly alone.

At one point, she had briefly entertained going to her head of house, but quickly rid herself of the idea. After all, what proof did she have? Gooseflesh and a constant prickle on the back of her neck? She'd be dismissed before she even finished her explanation. So she avoided going anywhere alone when she could, and rarely ventured out of the Tower after nightfall, sticking to corridors she knew were often traveled and well lit when she did. Nothing she did proved to be of any help, and the redhead found her nerves were quickly fraying.

There was no refuge to be found, no matter what she did. Sleep was becoming more and more elusive in her panicked state, and what little rest she did manage to get was often interrupted by dreams that were mostly forgotten in the light of dawn. Still, the image of intense amber eyes lingered, taunting her with their single-minded focus. And as the days passed, the moon that hung low in the sky grew fuller.

**October 21, 1996 – 11:32 AM**

"Miss Weasley," the diminutive Charms Professor called, trying to gain his favorite student's attention. "Miss Weasley," he called again, louder this time, trying to be heard over the mob that was attempting to exit his class now that the bell had rung. Unfortunately, today didn't seem to be his day – the youngest Weasley didn't seem to hear him over the excited chattering of her classmates.

Heaving a sigh, the former dueling champion shook his head in defeat and made his way back to his desk, scrambling up the pile of books and settling himself into the chair there as the last of the students made their way out of the room. Drawing the essay nearest to him, Fillius Flitwick unrolled the parchment and began to read, grabbing a quill from a near by ink well to make corrections.

Intent on his task, he never looked up when the door to his classroom opened. It was entirely possible he didn't hear it, and so it was all he could do to keep his dignity when a shadow fell over his desk. Nearly toppling off his chair, he desperately tried to steady himself before putting a hand over his racing heart and looking up. "Goodness, Miss Weasley, you certainly gave me a fright."

The redhead giggled quietly. "Sorry, Professor. Ritchie said you were asking for me, so here I am." Ginny bit her lip and curled her fingers around the strap of her bag a little tighter as she regarded the diminutive man with solemn eyes. "You were asking, weren't you?" A worried gaze flickered towards the door as she waited for his answer, and the youngest Weasley vowed to use her favorite spell on the girl if this was a trick.

"Indeed I was, Miss Weasley. I was hoping to speak with you about Halloween." Seeing his pupil's confusion, he laughed quietly. "I find myself in need of some help to complete the charms necessary to decorate the castle in time and was wondering if you'd like to help, my dear." Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but Flitwick held up his hand. "I know my class does not always challenge your skills and had thought you might perhaps like to learn a few new spells," he explained. "This will, of course, count as extra credit towards your grade should you choose to accept."

A genuine smile lit up the tired young woman's face, and she nodded enthusiastically. "I'd love to, Professor," she cried, before falling silent as she thought it over. Her acceptance had been a knee jerk reaction, and now that she had said yes her concerns were mounting. What about qudditch practice and her animagus lessons?

As if sensing her thoughts, he smiled gently at her. "I assure you Miss Weasley, this project will not interfere with your other commitments. Although I daresay I can not guarantee the same for your free time." The only Weasley girl merely flashed him a rather worn smile and nodded. With a quick thanks aimed his way, she was gone.

Flitwick merely watched her go with growing concern and wondered what he and Minerva were thinking, hanging the fate of their world on such a crazy idea and placing all their hopes onto the slim shoulders of the poor girl besides.

**October 26, 1996 – 5:16 PM**

Ginny Weasley's week passed in a blur of classes she couldn't quite recall, Halloween decorations that all looked the same, and sleepless nights. By the time dinner on the fifth night was set to arrive, she had reached her wits' end.

"Please Madame Pomfrey, I haven't slept in days," she told the mediwitch, nearly in tears she hated herself for. Ginevra Molly Weasley was not the sort who began to cry at the drop of her hat. Not even falling off her brothers' filched brooms while she was learning to fly had managed to draw a single tear. And yet a few restless nights and a bit of paranoia was pushing her further than she'd ever gone before.

Her mind was constantly fuzzy, her moves were sluggish, and her senses dulled. She could barely catch the quaffle and her food all tasted like air. "Please," she repeated, and the mediwitch began to study her intently. From the paleness of her skin to the dark rings around her eyes, it was clear Madame Pomfrey did not like what she saw in the slightest. "Very well, Miss Weasley. I will give you a dose of dreamless sleep and monitor you tonight as you sleep. Are this terms acceptable?" Ginny merely nodded in response, feeling far too worn to put up a proper fight despite the fact she hated the hospital wing. "Excellent. Why don't you go eat with your friends? There is no sense in sending your body further off balance than it already is by inducing sleep too early."

"Yes Madame Pomfrey," Ginny replied dutifully, climbing off the cot she had been ushered to when she'd first arrived and getting to her feet. Leaving her bag beside the bed, she promised to be back after supper and headed for the Great Hall.

No one said anything about her arriving late to dinner save a few concerned looks, and Ginny settled herself on the bench in between the Creevey brothers. "Thanks for saving me a seat," she said quietly, loading half of what she normally ate onto the fine golden plate. Colin and Dennis exchanged worried looks over her head.

"Ginny, I think you should go see Madame Pomfrey after dinner," Colin finally said when he realized she wasn't going to say anything else. Ginevra turned to look at him and blinked, her face slightly disinterested and more than a little confused. "Gin, did you hear what I said?"

"I'm fine, Colin," she snapped, allowing her fork to fall from her fingers to the plate. All she had been doing was pushing her food around anyway. "And I heard you. Now please, leave it alone."

"NO! I won't leave it alone, Gin. Something's obviously wrong! You don't eat, you can't focus, and you look like you haven't slept in weeks. We're only concerned because we're your friends, Ginny. So please, just humor us and go to the hospital wing, would you?"

The redhead swallowed hard and nodded. Merlin, it must have been bad if even Dennis had noticed. "I was supposed to go back anyway," she conceded grumpily, climbing off the bench. She wasn't terribly hungry to begin with, which is why she hadn't even pretended to eat. "I'll not be coming back to the tower later. Madame Pomfrey wants me to stay the night," the witch admitted softly, squeezing Colin's arm. It was as close to an apology as he was going to get right now with her so out of sorts, and they both knew it. She'd just have to make it up to him later.


End file.
